


catching butterflies

by Elisye



Series: outside of the golden land [4]
Category: Clockwork (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, brief mentions of alex there too but not enough for a chara tag, i.e "CHRIS YOU'RE A WIZARD" the au, mage!Christian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisye/pseuds/Elisye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they say, ignorance is bliss.</p><p>(Ignorance when you're not ignorant is just plain turmoil, however.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	catching butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> I DID THE THING Y E A H

.

.

Christian waves as the airship disappears into the skies, becoming a blip of brown in the distance. He doesn’t stop waving until he’s sure Cog can’t see him from his cabin window, and even when he does stop, there’s a slump to his posture and a heavy sigh in following.

His eyes glance up to the fortress - for a second, lingering on the bigger windows, where Boris’ room would be, and for a while on another window, on the opposite end of where he was looking. It was the room assigned to his cousin during his brief visit to Mercia; Christian would like to wonder just how the conversation went between Alexander and Cog—would like to guess the amount of discourse and discussion that must have tided the boy over—but this level of assuming and imagining is really just beyond him now.

His hands become fists in his coat pockets. Playing pretend was always easy when the topic itself was never brought up. It made things very simple - he could forget, if he so wished. He could blend his mind into the atmosphere and society like he had been born in it, grown up with the very same beliefs held ever-fervent, as how nearly everyone else did. But the core issue here is that, in the end, it’s a life-staking game banking on how well he could act, and not make a fool of himself.

Christian sighs again, this time heavier than even the last one. He distracts himself by thinking about Boris - how the prince would react to this turn of events. Of course, it goes without saying that the boy would be outright _furious_. Would demand to know what trickery and blackmail was pulled to let this happen so effortlessly. Oh, everyone would pity Boris for thinking that way, but ultimately go on with the idea that Cog had chosen it for himself. After all, what could a mere child have for the ambassador to make use of?

In that way, Boris is a good friend. He’s a good person to immediately assume that Cog wouldn’t do this so willingly - it’s either faith or understanding that would lead to such a conclusion. And not only that, but it’s the correct conclusion. The correct, and dangerously true conclusion.

The scientist frowns, feet already picking up pace - heading inside, as time passes and the morning advances. Boris would be awake sooner or later. Christian has to have some good excuse on hand before then, or otherwise be hounded on as unreliable and a horrible person for letting things happen this way. Being accused of that isn’t actually an unpleasant thought, though, since it’s a truth of its own: Christian let, possibly, one of the worst things happen.

He wonders again. What could he have done? What should he have done? The most heroic answer would have been to barge into that room, that night, and demanded to know what was going; even now, Christian can’t fathom a watertight guess as to why Cog would be needed, especially when it concerned that potential ability of his. What agendas did Alexander have to need it? None that the scientist could think of, off the top of his head. But secrets are very easy to keep, he knows that much. Of course, there's the possibility that he's just overthinking every single thing here, going back to old thoughts and old memories that have no place in the present. Paranoia makes solid conclusions from thin air. But still, even so...

Maybe there’s something he doesn’t know about his cousin. Maybe he was related to his cousin in more than just blood - an awfully fanciful thought, but Christian likes company. He might have not always been alone, but he has always, _always_ , been alienated. At least, from his own point of view, he can’t stand in the same circles as others. No one around him sees what he sees, and that’s enough for distance.

Christian continues to mull and mull, pacing past Boris’ room, hurrying away from Cog’s old room. His own room, filled with the faint vapors of harmless iodine and methylated spirit, is somewhat a comfort - though it doesn’t stop him from chewing the insides of his cheek and wondering. Nothing can be changed, but still. He’s worried. 

He’s worried for Cog, how he’d adapt to Arcadia - to a world so refined it’s stifling, cold in both the snow and its views of morality, so painfully black and white about magic - and how Arcadia would welcome him. He’s somehow not as worried about how Cog will take to his new work as Alexander’s right-hand assistant, but he’s definitely worried about how he’ll get use to magic; at this point, there really are no halfhearted thoughts that Cog wasn’t taken along for his likely inherited abilities, or at the very least, for something vaguely related to magic and its bearers. 

(Christian still remembers the report of the incident from seven years ago - magic, the likely culprit. Cog being the only survivor. Even without demonstrations, Christian could easily see the link, the possibility of blood passing down the most wretched of abilities, natural and yet unnatural with origin and context. It was partly why he shadowed the boy a little at first, acting perhaps a little too overprotective, but in his opinion, it was all horribly justified.)

The scientist grumbles some random gibberish under his breath - some half-garbled words of a small spell from a grimoire that he has long burnt, once the gravity of being a magic user finally hit him - and scratches the back of his head, fingers idly tugging at black and yellow strands along the way. Yes, there’s nothing he can do now. But maybe—he can certainly nudge in a few small hints and helping hands down the way, if he tries hard enough. He can do that much, yes.

It might not actually help or change anything, but at the very least, Cog would appreciate having Christian around more.

.


End file.
